Lucius Was Right
by Arlene
Summary: Bruce finally reveals his secret to Lucius


Disclaimer: DC owns them, not mine, never will be. No money was made from this piece of fiction.

Lucius Was Right

By Arlene

Lucius Fox stood ramrod straight in front of his CEO's desk. "I mean it, Bruce. You either get a bodyguard, or I'll resign."

Bruce rubbed his forehead in frustration. "Listen to me, Lucius, I can take care of myself. Trust me." They'd been debating this for hours, and both men's nerves were on edge.

"Bruce, of course I trust you!" His body language spoke otherwise. "It's everyone else I don't trust! There are people out there who'd love nothing more to than to see you hurt or dead just because of who you are and what you represent. And there are people out there who're just plain crazy and see you as a huge target. You can't keep living the way you are without some sort of protection! It's just not as safe as it used to be!"

Bruce let the man speak his peace. He already knew the world wasn't a safe place; he'd learned that one dark night many, many years ago. He also knew about people wanting to kill him, and he also knew about the insane people out there; he dealt with them every night. But of course, Lucius didn't know that and couldn't even understand the depth of Bruce's experiences.

As let he Lucius continue his rant, he studied his long-time friend. Watching his mannerisms, his gestures, listening to his tone of voice, Bruce knew that he was truly worried for him. It was touching in a way. He was the only one outside of "the family" to care for him so much.

"Lucius, stop." The soft tone was like a command. He'd never shone this side of himself to the older man. "Please sit down and let me explain."

Looking at Bruce warily, he slowly sat down, not allowing his body to relax. "Go ahead, Bruce," he sighed. Whatever it was, he knew he wouldn't like it.

Bruce hesitated. It wasn't a matter of trust. He knew he could trust Lucius completely, otherwise he wouldn't have allowed him to stay with the company so long. Rather, he was worried about how Lucius would react, considering his physical health. He took a deep breath. Now or never, although Bruce would've preferred never.

"Lucius, if you recall, I've spent a great deal of my youth . . . abroad." When he got a nod, he went on. "Well, during that time, I had learned . . . things. Things they don't teach in private schools. Like self-defense. How to disarm someone. How to use your opponent's strength against him. Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you?" Inwardly, he grimaced at his poor explanation.

"Yeah, I think so," Lucius began uncertainly. "You're telling me you know judo or some other martial art. And I think that's great, and it's handy against some . . . mugger or pickpocket, but Bruce, let's get real here. I'm talking about snipers, kidnapping and assassination attempts. How are you going to protect yourself against those? Or even psychos like the Joker or Two-Face! I mean, my God, Harvey Dent was your friend! What if he suddenly remembers that you accidentally tripped him in college, or stole his girlfriend or something? What if he decides to just wipe you off the face of the earth for something petty that happened years ago? I mean, how're you going to deal with that? Who do you think are? Batman?"

And there it was, the perfect opening. So he went for it. "Yes, Lucius," he said as solemnly as he could, "I am Batman."

At first, Lucius stared at him in shock. "I-I can't believe it." Then he groaned and slumped back into the chair. 

Alarmed, Bruce stood up, ready to come to his aid. Suddenly, Lucius sat up and glared at him. "I just cannot believe it!" He jumped out of his seat and started pacing. "You've been drinking again, haven't you?" Bruce was about to break in, but Lucius pointed an accusing finger at him. "We've been talking for hours, and you're drunk! Now, Bruce, the charity ball was one thing, and I recall Richard having to drive you home early because you were so out of it. Remember that? When you told everyone there that you were Batman? Even in front of Jim Gordon, of all people! No, don't answer me! Of course you don't remember that. You were drunk!" Lucius stopped, and his expression changed from outrage to outright horror. "Oh. My. God. You're drunk, and I couldn't even tell! Bruce," he lowered his voice, "you have a serious problem. But-but, we can deal with it. I mean, alcoholism *can* be cured. It's just going to take some time, that's all. We'll check you in quietly, no one needs to know--"

This was just too much. "Lucius, calm down! I am not drunk."

Lucius looked at him carefully. "You're in denial, Bruce. But you've got to see what's going on around you, who this is affecting. You're not only killing yourself; think about all the people who care about you. Think about what this is doing to Dick and Alfred."

Bruce stepped up to him and put his hands on his friend's shoulders, both to still his movements and to look him in the eye. "Lucius, I'm not drunk." Lucius opened his mouth. "And no, I'm not using drugs." 

Bruce steered his captive audience to a couch and sat down beside him. He needed to break it to him before he could come up with any other wild assumptions. He spoke gently to his old friend, hoping he wouldn't cause a heart attack. "I am Batman. This is what I do at night. This is what I've been doing ever since I returned to Gotham. Think, Lucius, think about the similarities between Dick as a child and the first Robin." Leaving him on the couch, Bruce got up to make the man a stiff drink as he processed the information.

When he returned, Lucius was staring at him, trying to get his voice to work. "What about the time you were shot, right outside on the courthouse steps?" Bruce winced at the memory. When the doctor had asked about all the scars that marred his body, he had told her that he'd fallen out of a tree as a child. When she remarked about the newer scars, he'd told her that it was a very large tree.

Seeing Bruce's reaction, Lucius pressed on. "And what about the car accident, when you broke your back? You were paralyzed, and Batman was still reportedly seen around Gotham." Another bad memory. Bruce really didn't like where this was going.

"And that kidnapper? The one that shot you with a tranquilizer and assaulted Alfred after that party? You were pretty badly beaten up, and when the guy came to, he was babbling about some . . . demon saving you. Since you're here, I'm assuming it wasn't a demon. Batman again, maybe?" Although Bruce was thankful that Alfred was able to reach Dick so quickly, it was something he didn't like to dwell upon. Why did Lucius have to have such a good memory?

"Lucius, but I'm--"

"No, Bruce. It's a great fantasy, but that's all it is, a fantasy. Now, you cannot imagine how glad I am to hear that you're not abusing any substances. How about this: you take a nice long break from everything, maybe a nice quiet place to think and just relax, and we'll talk about the bodyguard some other time, okay? We'll discuss this when we've both had time to think things over. No pressure."

"So, you're not resigning?" Bruce asked, relieved. "Okay, Lucius. We'll table it for now. But please, think about what I've told you."

"Sure, Bruce. I think we both need time to . . . cool off. Just let me know where you plan to be so I don't have to worry so much."

They shook hands. "I will, and Lucius, thank you."

When Lucius was sure that Bruce had left the building, he called the personal security agency to stand by and wait for the travel plans. Then he called a psychiatrist about Bruce's problem. He was determined to save Bruce from himself.

End

Notes:

See "Spin Control" for the charity ball.

See "Rantings of a Sane Man" for the kidnapping.

Both are in the Batman section.


End file.
